The Lefties are back but they are not 'loonies'

Even hundreds of miles away, the news emanating from an artificially-lit conference centre in Liverpool shone brightly on the front pages of British newspapers.

"Corbyn is back" heralded one, "Labour in la-la-land" screamed another.

It was, as the pollsters predicted, an easy win for Jeremy Corbyn to retain the leadership of the Labour Party.

Or should that be Labour movement - as with more then 650,000 members, the party is now the biggest in Western Europe.

Nothing could stop Corbyn this time round: not challenger Owen Smith, not dozens of resigning members of the shadow cabinet, not the "biased" media whose headlines beamed at me as I stroll through a petty Italian village.

If you listen to JC's scores of supporters, this was the second coming incarnate - and when the news was announced there wasn't a Doubting Thomas in sight.

Corbynistas may want us to think of it as t-shirt revolution, where the besuited champagne socialists of Blair and Brown's New Labour are stuffed back in the closet allowing the casual comrades to emerge to the fore championing that dirty word 'socialism'.

For some it was too much, with members of Corbyn's Momentum cheerleading squad breaking down in tears at the announcement.

Others can't remember anything like it, when a politician could fill halls up and down the country with his sheer presence.

Corbyn is different - and for every apparent political failure he seems to emerge even stronger.

Those thousands of supporters don't care what comes out of his mouth and how it is delivered (in terms of quality of polemic he ranks just above a milkman but below a college tutor).

What they care about is not the messenger; it's the message of doing things differently, of sounding and looking different to other members of the political class.

Forget the t-shirts, the 21st century JC could be wrapped in a tea towel and still be cheered above the polished political elites who he stands alongside.

Yet as much as those religiously spending £10 on books of poetry inspired by Corbyn want us to believe, this is not something that is British centric; it is something that has been happening across Europe for years.

Podimos in Spain, Syriza in Greece and Five Star in Italy are all popular radical left wing movements that have sprung up across the continent.

The roots of all are in the financial crisis of 2008.

Money evaporated, jobs were scrapped and public trust in politics dropped as bankers gave even journalists and socialists a good name.

What emerged was a group of protest parties, of movements that did not care much for being in power but generating change from the outside.

Each promised much of the same that Corbyn stands for - greater grassroots democracy, increased public investment, a change from the status quo.

As grassroots support grew, so to did political ambitions.

And each of those parties in European counties have found that life in the tent of power is a lot tougher than being on the outside.

In Brighton we saw our own micro-versions of the unease come to the fore.

UK Uncut piled in to shop windows in Western Road to raise the issues of multinationals avoiding tax.

Other protest groups had issues like animal rights or the arms industry in their sights.

And we saw the election of the UK's first Green MP and creation of the country's first Green-led council.

So British media be aware - this is not la-la-land or the return of the loony left, this is something very different.

At the moment, momentum is well and truly with JC and his gang.

But Corbyn and his comrades would do well to remember that the journey to winning power is hard. Staying there is even harder.

REGULAR readers of this column will know I am currently in the middle of a Roman adventure.

But it seems even in this home of ancient civilisation you cannot escape people's love for Brighton.

While wondering around the Colosseum I bumped into an Italian tour guide with perfect English.

"Where are you from", she asks.

"Brighton", I respond.

Her face lit up and all of a sudden the prepared chitchat about the great history of the imposing building behind faded into distant memory.

It turns out the guide lived in our city for a year leaning English, adding "that is where my heart is".

Proof that the love of Brighton is as universal as the eternal city itself.